


Secret Keepers

by twitchtipthegnawer



Series: Overwatch Oneshots [18]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Light BDSM, M/M, Redneck Shibari, Spit As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 06:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10736517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twitchtipthegnawer/pseuds/twitchtipthegnawer
Summary: Everyone in the outback had something they didn’t want anyone to know, these days. Junkrat thought he did a pretty good job of hiding what needed to be hidden. After all, no one knew where his treasure was, did they?But now Mercy was breathing down his neck and Roadhog was telling him things that, well - they might make Junkrat feel a little sappy. A little inclined to honesty.





	Secret Keepers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Froggyflan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Froggyflan/gifts).



> The tie Roadhog uses on Junkrat is complicated and involves modifying a preexisting tie to accommodate his peg leg. I can’t remember the name of it but here’s a picture for anyone wondering (nsfw obviously).
> 
> Special thanks to @meownnaise for sensitivity reading ^u^ Hope everyone enjoys!

He had both hands up above his head and a nervous smile on his face as he backed away. “Now now, let’s be reasonable about this mate - “

Angela pinched her bleeding nose, looking downright murderous. She didn’t respond. Jamison thought she might’ve been  _ shaking, _ she was so mad.

“Just a reflex, yeah? Perfectly natural reaction to someone sneakin’ up behind me!”

It was a lie, of course. The real reason he’d decked her was a secret he’d take to his damn grave if he could. So he kept babbling aimlessly, not giving her a chance to cut in. Maybe if he annoyed her enough she’d give up on administering the test.

Pointing at the stool with her free hand, Angela snapped, “Get back in your seat.”

_ Bugger, _ Jamison thought angrily. “I want my bodyguard in here,” he announced. “I don’t feel safe what with you plannin’ to retaliate ‘n all.”

The anger on Angela’s face was draining into something much more resigned. That was fine by Jamison. More than fine, in fact, so long as she gave up already and  _ let him go. _

Instead she walked past him with a confident stride that had him flinching away from her. Poking her head out the door, she said something  - he didn’t catch what - and then she opened it wide for Mako. He had to duck to get in, and the sight (as always) prompted a giggle from Jamison. If it was a bit higher-pitched than usual, he hoped no one noticed.

“Now,” Angela said, turning back to him. “Sit.”

“Alright, don’t get your panties in a twist,” Jamison replied.

He sat back on the stool, resisting the urge to fidget uncomfortably. He didn’t resist very well. Still, Angela didn’t miss a beat, sitting in front of him and plopping the headphones back on his head. She didn’t bother giving the instructions again, but Jamison knew them by heart anyway.  _ Raise your hand when you hear the noise, _ yadda yadda yadda.

As soon as Angela pressed a button on her fancy hearing-test-thingy, Jamison raised his hand. Angela glared at him, turning a dial. Jamison pretended like she didn’t look mildly terrifying with her face still bloody, well, bloody.

“You won’t be rejected based on your scores,” she said slowly. “We’re just trying to decide what method of communication would be most effective for you.”

“No need. You can ask Hoggy, I can’t follow orders for shit!” Jamison gave her his best charming grin. She didn’t look charmed in the least.

“If you’re going to be a member of Overwatch, you’re going to be working with a team. I know that it may not be what you’re used to, but - “

There was a soft rumble as Roadhog said something beside Jamison. Angela sighed, then went back to fiddling with her machine. Jamison swallowed hard.

This time he tried to time his hand to match the expression on her face. Contrary to popular belief, he was pretty good at reading people when he wanted to. He raised his hand just as her eyebrows started to quirk into something incredulous.

She gave him a suspicious look, but noted something down on her datapad anyway. Jamison felt rather proud of his deception abilities. He could lie with the best of ‘em, yessiree.

They continued on long enough that he started to get nervous again - he could see Roadhog shifting restlessly in his chair but, damn him, Jamison needed the backup just in case - but fucking  _ finally  _ Angela put down her datapad and ran a hand through her bedraggled hair. “Jamison, I don’t suppose you can read?”

“What? Why on earth would I need to know a thing like that? Don’t got any schools in the ol’ outback now, do we mate?” If his prattling was a bit more nervous than usual, the only one who knew him well enough to notice was Mako.

“Because you’re deaf. You don’t need me to tell you that.”

“Huh? Sorry, didn’t quite catch that,” Junkrat stuck his fingers in his ears as if he was cleaning them. It was the only reaction he could think of. “Me ears work fine, lady. Just ask my good pal here, deaf junkers don’t last a day in the desert.”

His heart was pounding a mile a minute. Jackhammering. Fucking turbo-charged. Fit to explode.

“Jamison - “Angela started. Then Roadhog’s hand landed on Junkrat’s shoulder, and she stopped talking abruptly. Junkrat tried to look up to read his friend’s lips, but he was still wearing his mask. As usual, all he heard was the low rumble, almost a feeling more than a sound.

Sighing, Angela shook her head. “I should’ve known,” she grumbled. “Okay, we might be able to work something out with Lúcio.”

“That omnic-fuckin’ hipster shite? I don’t want nothing to do with ‘im - “

“Just. Stop.” Angela’s face left absolutely no room for argument. She shooed out Jamison, giving him no room for argument. He was left glaring at her stupid door in the stupid hallway, standing beside stupid confused D.Va. It would be a while before Roadhog was done with his portion of the physical exam, Junkrat knew.

And he wouldn’t be getting some false-positive hearing test, probably. Fuck, why did it even matter? So Jamison didn’t hear as well as he used to. So what? He survived well on his own, fought well on his own, and fought  _ awesome  _ with Hoggy beside him.

Stupid Angela and her stupid backwards doctorly priorities. Lúcio probably wouldn’t even want to help Junkrat. They didn’t get along at all.

Pouting, Junkrat leaned against the wall and ignored D.Va while he waited for Roadhog. He didn’t have to wait long; evidently, Mako’s testing was less eventful than Junkrat’s had been.

Roadhog didn’t say anything as they walked back to their room. That was fine by Junkrat, and anyway the guy never said much when it was just the two of them. It gave him plenty of time to whine about how overbearing and dumb and awful Angela was, about how he really  _ really  _ wasn’t looking forward to regular checkups and why couldn’t she understand that he knew perfectly well how to take care of himself?

It wasn’t until Roadhog locked the door to their room and turned the brightness down on the lights that Junkrat realized something was up.

Then Mako actually  _ took off his mask, _ and Junkrat realized something  _ big  _ was up. He sat on the edge of the massive bed (the only plus side to Overwatch so far) and stared up at Mako’s face, shocked. He’d seen it before of course, but not often.

A huge scar disfigured the right side of his face. Junkrat was used to scars, of course - he had to be, growing up in Austrailia. But this one was particularly ugly. It warped his lips into a permanent sneer, and had eaten entirely through his cheek. He even had a couple of missing teeth visible in the gap. Junkrat had always thought that scar might be a useful intimidation tool, but he understood why Roadhog hid it.

“Jamie, I already knew you couldn’t hear.”

Embarrassingly, Junkrat’s mouth lolled open in surprise. He snapped it shut with a  _ snap  _ the next second.

“What do you mean? I’m not, hah, you can’t mean you actually believed her!”

“Jamie,” Roadhog said again. Then he sighed and sat on the bed beside Junkrat. Hysterical giggles threatened to burst out of Jamison’s mouth, but he swallowed them down.

For a minute everything was quiet. It was almost like the open desert again, except cooler and darker and enclosed. Not much like the desert at all, actually, but still nice.

Turning to face Jamie fully, Roadhog started talking again. “I never did tell you how I got this scar, did I?”

“Nuh uh,” Jamison confirmed. “But you don’t need to if you don’t wanna. It ain’t any of me business what me friends got up to before I ran into ‘em.”

“Shut up,” Roadhog grumbled. Jamison obeyed before he could really think about it.

“...It was before the ALF,” he started. “Everyone thinks it happened in the explosion, but they’re wrong. Explosion’s just what got me started wearing the mask.”

Honestly Junkrat hadn’t thought that; he hadn’t thought much of anything. He didn’t like thinking about things that were difficult in general. But now that Roadhog’d brought it up, it made sense. The Australian Liberation Front was a shitshow that could’ve easily caused that scarring.

“Back during the Omnic Crisis, I was an Enforcer. Good job, to be honest. Had a lotta close friends working with me. Nice pay. It was dangerous, but everything was dangerous back then.

“My last mission was a joke. Not a very funny one, mind. God programs were already isolated. We could’ve just fuckin’ left them alone at that point. They weren’t gonna last much longer anyway. But no, Mary-fuckin’-anne had to stick her nose where it didn’t belong.

“You would’ve hated her. Tiny as a mouse, eheh. Furious too. Never knew when to leave well enough alone. You would’ve gotten along like a house on fire.

“She led the charge in. Bunch’a bastions were waiting for us, of course, but we were ready. Knew the drill. I had two down in minutes, and we were almost to the hostages when the bomb went off.

“Big damn thing, that bomb. Bigger’n most of yours. Caught Maryanne full in the face. We couldn’t find many pieces of her afterwards.

“For a real long time, I wanted everyone to have to look at it. Even took off my bandages too early. Thought it’d be a good reminder why we shouldn’t make nice with a bunch of murderers. Something wrong with a race that could kill a woman like that.

“But then the ALF happened, and… fuck, Jamie. I know you like some parts of it. But we were monsters for a while there. We killed as many humans as omnics with that last blast. Liberation’s cheap, it turns out.”

He paused, as if to think through his own words. Jamison hadn’t ever seen him say so much in one sitting before and was left stunned. His brain felt like it was lagging behind, like he needed the pause as much as Roadhog did.

Even when he thought he understood what Roadhog was getting at, he couldn’t help but wonder about what the  _ point  _ was. So Roadhog had done fucked up shit. Junkrat had too! And this lady, Maryanne or whatever - what was her relationship with him? The way Roadhog talked about her, and the fact that he’d known her so long ago made Junkrat wonder. Had they dated? Been married? Why did Roadhog say he’d hate her?

Junkrat was starting to get a headache. Just when he felt fit to tell Roadhog he didn’t want to talk anymore, two huge hands cradled his cheeks and forced him to face his friend again. “Mercy says she’s got superior treatments for radiation poisoning,” he said. “If I can use that and take off my mask again, you can work with the singing brat a bit.”

“I - “ Jamison started. Then he looked into Mako’s eyes, deep grey in the gloom, and couldn’t finish. “Oh, fine. Fuck you.”

With a grotesque smile, Roadhog kissed him. It was a better thank you than Junkrat had hoped for.

The kiss was weird. Junkrat still wasn’t used to Roadhog tasting like mint instead of salt and ice cream. It was nice, though. Roadhog kissed like he was trying to  _ eat  _ Junkrat, all overpowering and violent in a way Junkrat loved. He leaned forward just the tiniest bit and forced Junkrat to bend his body to accommodate.

Pushing his tongue inside Roadhog’s mouth, Junkrat felt for the edges of his scar. Roadhog  _ growled _ , a noise that resonated through Junkrat’s chest and made him shiver. The tip of his tongue was cold where the outside air had snuck into Roadhog’s mouth. His chest and belly were warm and tingly feeling.

“Tie me up,” Junkrat gasped. He knew he was probably slurring. Didn’t care. “Please, please, tie me up this time -”

Covering Junkrat’s mouth with his hand, Mako pulled away. “Lie on your belly,” he ordered. “Legs spread and hands behind your back.”

Jamison scrambled to obey while Mako got ropes out from under the bed. They were coarse and thick, designed to withstand the force of Jamison’s prosthetic pulling on them. And they chafed like a motherfucker, but that was just bonus.

_ This, _ they were used to. Each knot Mako tied had Jamison relaxing a little bit more. He loved the ropes, had for forever, but Mako was the best he’d found at tying them. He knew how to keep them tight without leaving Jamison’s remaining fingers and toes all tingly. Knew how to fuck him hard enough to leave blisters without risking his ability to fight the next day.

Pretty soon Jamison couldn’t move no matter how bad he wanted. His legs were tied at the knees, kept bent wide and up by the ropes at his arms. He squirmed in the ties, relishing the way the ropes refused to give.

Casually, with all that brute strength Junkrat lusted after, Roadhog picked him up and flipped him onto his back. He was helpless as a turtle on its shell, wriggling underneath Roadhog’s heated gaze. All pinned prey and toothy grin. His breath was coming faster already.

Two heavy, huge fingers slipped into Junkrat’s mouth. They stretched his jaw wide, and he licked and sucked at them enthusiastically. They thrust back and forth, like Roadhog was giving him a preview of what was coming. Occasionally they pressed in so far that Jamison gagged; that only made the whole thing more fun.

As always, Mako was pretty quiet. He wasn’t inclined to dirty talk, and Junkrat appreciated it. Reading lips was fuckin’ hard when his eyes kept rolling back from how deep Roadhog’s dick was inside him.

The stress of the day felt like it was just melting off Jamison. The rest of Overwatch had already learned the hard way that Junkrat and Roadhog fucked like bunnies, so they knew they’d be able to go as hard and loud as they wanted without anyone getting gutsy enough to do something about it. And Junkrat planned to be _ loud. _

Once his fingers were nice and sopping wet, Roadhog pulled them out. He petted a wet trail down Junkrat’s belly, leaving his muscles twitching from the weird feeling.

Junkrat actually yelped when Roadhog wrapped his hand around his cock. He just - he hadn’t been expecting it. He was so ready to be full, he could feel his insides aching for it already. But the swift up-and-down movement, the calloused palm all but smothering his dick, that was good too.  _ So good. _

A rumbly chuckle rocked Junkrat’s frame, and he knew he made some kind of noise in response.

Leaning down, Roadhog bit the side of Junkrat’s neck viciously. He was definitely leaving bruises, a whole trail of them. It was a special sort of treat, since he didn’t always take off his mask even during sex, but he knew how much Junkrat liked the signs of ownership.

“Please, Mako, fill me up already - I don’t,  _ hhfuck, _ I don’t wanna come before you’re in me!”

Shameless begging, as usual, worked wonders on Roadhog. He let go of Jamison’s cock in favor of creeping his fingers lower, down between his cheeks,  _ ah, god, finally. _

“S-so big, how’d you even get so big, it ain’t fair,” Jamison babbled. It was all honest babbling, though.

At this point Jamison usually realized that there was no way Roadhog was getting in without injuring him and insisted on proper lube. Today, though, he felt strangely raw. He wanted his body to match his emotions, all twisted up and laid bare.

“Kiss me, please, I need -  _ mmh!” _

Mako pressed a second finger in at the same time as he smothered Junkrat’s lips with his own. It was so much, so good, Junkrat couldn’t help but try to rock his hips into the feeling.

Even if he’d never admit it out loud, he really, really loved Mako. Not just because of the sex.

 

\----------

His sleep was restless. He couldn’t seem to get comfortable. He was reminded of being a child, trying to sleep on rocks, but it was the opposite problem. Whereas then he’d been unused to resting on bumpy ground, now he was weirded out by the plush bed.

Maybe that was why he dreamed of his mom. It’d been a long time since he’d thought of her, but as soon as he properly nodded off he was remembering her face.

Long, blonde hair fell in his vision. It was precisely the same shade as his own.

And then he heard her singing. Her voice was guttural, not beautiful by any stretch of the imagination. In his dream he covered his ears and screeched at her to stop in his little-kid voice.

But in real life his fingers clenched in the sheets. His eyes stung with unshed tears. It wasn’t enough to wake him, but it was enough to start an ache in his chest he didn’t really understand.

When he awoke it was to the same silence that had greeted him for over a decade now, and the solid warmth of Roadhog pressed against his back. He tried to remember the dream, but it slipped out of his mind so quickly he couldn’t even remember why he’d wanted to remember it. Ah, well. Dreams were always slippery bastards.

There was a red light blinking above their door. It took a minute for Junkrat to remember that the light meant someone was trying to get them up.  _ At least the bastards let us sleep in for once, _ he mused.

Whatever it was, it was urgent enough that he figured he didn’t have to put on clothes before opening the door. When he saw who was there, however, and the disgruntled look on his visitor’s face, he slammed the door back shut.

Nope, abort mission, he was going back to bed.

Unfortunately, he’d woken up Roadhog with all his moving around. Ah well, if Jamison could fall back asleep he could too. Ducking under the covers, Jamison resolved to stay nice and cozy until noon at the very least.

After a minute Mako got up, taking most of the blankets with him. Junkrat grumbled and adjusted them, trying to get himself comfortable again.

With one firm  _ yank, _ Roadhog pulled the blankets far enough that Junkrat couldn’t grab them again. “Hey! What’s the big idea?”

A huge hand pushed his shoulder insistently. Sitting up, Junkrat tried to glare daggers at Roadhog - only to burst into giggles at the sight of him.

“Lookin’ a little crusty there mate,” Junkrat chortled, gesturing at Roadhog’s chest. Looking down, Roadhog finally spotted the streak of gross cum that had stuck to him the night before. A grimace made his scarred face look extra fearsome for a moment.

But that didn’t distract him for long. Mako pointed at the light above the door, then rose one eyebrow pointedly. Jamison looked away. “Ain’t none of our business, just a wannabe rock star here to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong. He probably left already.”

Huffing loudly, Roadhog turned around and marched into their attached bathroom. Junkrat was still scrambling to get their blankets back on the bed when a bundle of fabric hit him in the head. Pulling it off, he found himself staring at a fluffy, white bathrobe. Fuck fuck and triple fuck. Hoggy wasn’t gonna let him put this off any longer was he.

If he had to put on a robe, he didn’t have to be happy about it. He even stuck his tongue out at Roadhog, but he’d put the mask on again and his reaction was hidden. And then there was nothing left for Junkrat to do to avoid the idiot at the door.

Inching the door open as reluctantly as a stubborn two-year-old, Junkrat revealed Lúcio’s scowling face. It was unusual to see him without a smile on, but if anything could get him riled up, it was Junkrat.

“Yeah, I’m not any happier about it than you are pal,” Lúcio said. “Your family jewels aren’t exactly what I wanted to see first thing in the morning.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t’ve woken me up then,” Junkrat mumbled. “Why are you here anyway?”

“Angela’s orders. You need a method of communication, and I’m the sound guy.”

Dubiously squinting at Lúcio’s face, Junkrat tried to judge how serious he was. “You think you’re gonna find some magic sounds I can hear?”

“Nope. Are you going to let me in or not? I’d rather not work standing up if I don’t have to.”

Suddenly Roadhog bumped into Junkrat from behind. Looking back, Jamison saw that he’d also put on a bathrobe (and disappointingly cleaned his chest). Sighing, Jamison followed Roadhog’s nudging and stepped out of the way. Lúcio looked around their room curiously, but it was still pretty empty. They hadn’t really had time for decorating yet.

“Sit wherever,” Jamison said, waving his hand around vaguely. Wasn’t like omnic-loving was contagious. Heck, after the reminder of the crisis Roadhog had given him last night… well, Jamison wasn’t gonna be tempted to any hippie crap mentality any time soon.

So he could do this. He could talk to the weirdo for like thirty minutes, whatever, they’d realize hooking him up to some fancy comm was a waste of time, and everyone would go home happy. This wouldn’t be too bad.

Plopping his big, metal ass on their desk, Lúcio tried for a smile. It looked a little strained, and it made Junkrat’s eye twitch. “Alright, to start with, put these on.”

More headphones, of course. They looked cooler than Angela’s boring medical ones had, at least - not that Junkrat was going to tell him that. He put them on his head. No point resisting, really. He was trying very hard to broadcast his boredom.

Except then he, well, he didn’t  _ hear _ something exactly. It was a half-felt thing, almost like tapping on his ears. He was suddenly reminded that Lúcio  _ fought _ with sound, and he had a moment to be afraid that his head was about to be exploded in the lamest assassination ever. But seconds passed, and his head didn’t blow up. That weird tapping just continued, fading into a rumbling vibration on his neck.

“Can you feel that?” Lúcio asked.

“I’m deaf, not numb,” Junkrat snapped.

This time, Lúcio’s smile was much more genuine. “Think we could do one pulse for no, two for yes?”

As he spoke he demonstrated, tapping a button on the side of them. And yeah, Junkrat could tell the difference between one pulse and two. Yeah, he could remember which pulse pattern went for which pattern. He wasn’t a  _ retard. _ That last comment got a tightened jaw from Lúcio, but he didn’t make a comment for once.

“We can work this out,” Lúcio said firmly. “You’re going to work in a team no matter what.”

“Just like you had to help me out no matter what?”

“Yeah. Like that.”

Strangely, it wasn’t as bad a thought as Junkrat had been prepared for. He could see Roadhog out of the corner of his eye, sitting on their rumpled bed and watching them through his mask. The glittering, glassy piggy eyes were as creepy and comforting as always.

Overwatch might turn out to be a pretty awesome place after all.


End file.
